


Fields of Fire

by BlackSharkTooth



Series: Defenders' Legacy [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Fire, Galra Empire, Gen, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)-centric, Major Character Injury, Mentioned Keith (Voltron), POV Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 08, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Post-Season/Series Finale, Three Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29583864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSharkTooth/pseuds/BlackSharkTooth
Summary: Two years after the Lions left New Altea, Lance reminisces among fields of flowers, life passing him by.However, the shadows of the ten thousand year war have birthed a new enemy: an enemy hungry for revenge.
Relationships: Lance & Veronica (Voltron)
Series: Defenders' Legacy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185368
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Fields of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks again to devoosha for beta reading this for me and fixing my grammar.

His eyes drooped from the four a.m start as he took in the pink and purple flower. Lance McClain smiled as he turned the Juniberry between his fingers. Flowers with four petals meant a healthy harvest, and if you believed Altean superstitions, good fortune in the future.

“Lance? Lance!”

Veronica’s voice brought Lance to full alert. His tired eyes flicked wide open as he looked up.

His sister stood on the dirt path leading from the farm into the expansive green fields dotted with pink, flowery clumps.

“Oh, hey V,” said Lance. Veronica’s eased stance was at odds with her grey Garrison uniform. Lance almost saluted; a hard, drilled-in habit from seeing it. “What you doin’ here?”

“Heading back to the Garrison and thought I’d stop by,” said Veronica, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to the grey and white car on the path behind her. “Sure is quiet without all the animals.”

“Yeah,” Lance said with a shrug. “We got good prices this year though, and we still got Kaltenecker hanging around. I couldn’t—”

The rush and buzz of a speeder bike’s engine cut Lance off. He clenched the Juniberry, and the container full of them to his chest as the wind whipped past.

“Hey, Rachel!” Veronica yelled. “Watch where you’re going on that thing!”

The offending hover-bike lurched to a stop, and Rachel offered an apologetic wave. “Sorry, sis! But these munchkins wanna say hi!”

“Auntie V! Auntie V!” shouted a pair of small voices, and Lance winced as Sylvio and Nadia jumped off the bike, shoved past his legs and swamped Veronica. She crouched and embraced them back.

“Woah, Nadia,” said Veronica, “you’re getting bigger every time I see you!” Turning to Sylvio, she added, “But I think _you’re_ shrinking!”

“I’m NOT!” Sylvio shouted. “I’m bigger than her!” he added, pointing at Nadia.

“What did ya do on Daibazaal?” Nadia asked.

“Are the Galra still big and scary?” added Sylvio.

“Where are you going next?”

“Woah, one question at a time,” Veronica giggled. “No, the Galra ain’t too scary, they’re just different, that’s all.” With a grin, she added, “Some are even kinda cute.”

Both kids gagged.

“Anyway,” Veronica continued, “tomorrow I’m going to Taujeer!”

“Cool,” both kids whispered in unison. “Are you going too, Uncle Lance?” asked Sylvio, pointing at Lance.

“Nah, I gotta stay here,” Lance said, shaking his head. “These Juniberries ain’t pickin’ themselves.”

Sylvio frowned and Nadia made a disappointed whine.

“Hey,” Lance pretended to sound offended as he knelt and grabbed Sylvio, “don’t ya want me around?”

Lance tickled Sylvio, who laughed and squirmed.

“Hey!” shouted Marco from down the trail leading to the farm, clutching two buckets. “Come on, you two. Help me get Kaltenecker to the barn. She needs her milkin’.”

“Okay!” the kids shouted in unison.

Lance smiled as he stood up, watching Rachel and the kids speed back towards the farm.

“We launch tomorrow at zero seven hundred hours,” said Veronica, standing. Her phone rang and her smile vanished as she answered.

 _“Lieutenant McClain!”_ shouted Commander Iverson’s voice before his projection fully formed. _“Where the sam-hill are you?”_

“At my last stop, Commander,” said Veronica, levelling her voice and doing her best to hide her disdain.

_“Well get your butt back to the Garrison, ASAP! The Osiris ain’t gonna complete its own system checks!”_

His eyes shifted to Lance. _“Ah, Paladin McClain,”_ he said, reigning in his ferocity. _“You still playin’ farm boy?”_

“Yeah,” Lance answered, shrugging. Iverson’s injured eye twitched, and Lance went hot as he straightened his back. “Yes, sir!”

_“Well, if ya ever wanna stop by, I got some wannabe pilots who could learn a thing or two from ya.”_

Lance shook his head and repeated the same excuse.

 _“That’s too bad,”_ said Iverson, _“they don’t make ‘em like they used to.”_ His gruffness returned as he looked at Veronica. _“Finish what ya gotta do. Be back by fifteen hundred!”_

“Yes, commander,” said Veronica. 

_“Good! Iverson out!”_ His projection vanished and Veronica’s face dropped.

“Oof,” said Lance, half suppressing a laugh. “Better you than me.”

“Same for the next three weeks while your friend’s off honeymooning.” Veronica shook her head as she raised her phone again. Her lips pursed as she opened the first in a list of unread messages. “I could pull a few strings if you wanna come,” she said with a wide-eyed smile.

“I would,” Lance began, “but harvesting these’ll take a couple of days.” He waved over the clumps of Juniberries scattered across the field. “It’s got four petals,” he said with a smile, offering Veronica the flower in his hand. “They’re worth twice as much.”

Veronica’s smile dropped.

“Sorry, V. I gotta work overtime if we’re gonna get them shipped on time. They look their best in spring.” He turned the flower in his fingers, his mind slipping back into a familiar reminisce. “They’re hard to ignore.”

“Just like in summer,” Veronica murmured, her arms dropping to her side as she looked away. “And in fall; and winter.”

 _Not this again._ Lance stuffed the flower into the container at his feet.

“Lance,” said Veronica as Lance seized the container and headed back to the field. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Leave it,” said Lance.

“I wish _you_ could,” Veronica grabbed his shoulder.

“I can’t,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I can’t, V.”

It was a cycle he thought he’d learned to break, but outside his visits to the planet born from her sacrifice, nothing reminded him more of Allura than these flowers. 

It had become easier to talk about her, and with help from his friends, even look back at their time together with fondness. There was some truth in the saying ‘time heals all wounds’, but grief for who he—no, THEY had lost, always found a way back. Especially when he checked his reflection, and those blue sickle-shaped marks beneath his eyes stared back.

Veronica’s grip tightened.

“I know,” she said, her voice level and gentle. “No one’s saying you can’t miss her, and you shouldn’t try to forget her, Lance.” She sighed. “But it’s been three years, and you’re still young. After all that work and everything you accomplished, she wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life in mourning.”

Most of his family had supported his decision to drop out of the Garrison and help with the farm. 

_A simple life will do him good after all that space fighting,_ his mom said. Veronica, however, like Keith, and even Shiro, though they told Lance otherwise, lost enthusiasm whenever he mentioned the farm. 

His handwritten resignation stated he just needed a month or two away from piloting to adjust. That month or two turned into a year, then two.

A self-loathing spike jabbed in his gut. Even at his ‘peak’, he’d stood by, idle and useless when it mattered most. Now, three years without practice, he might as well start from the bottom, and there was no way he’d sit in a class of cadets a full foot shorter than him.

A distant rumble stopped Lance’s reply, and the dust at his feet shivered on the ground.

“The MFEs on manoeuvres again?” he asked. The Garrison’s top fighter pilots often trained near the farm leaving elaborate vapour-trails.

“There’s nothing scheduled,” said Veronica, peering uneasily at the sky. Her phone rang into life. She’d barely uttered her greeting when it rang again. She answered, and it rang again. 

Veronica lowered the phone—twenty calls were queueing.

Another rumble; closer and more violent, shook the trees. Veronica’s car alarm wailed as a distant explosion rang across the farm.

Lance dropped the container. Something was wrong. He reached for his phone, but before he could even unlock it, another thunderous crack rang out. He clapped his hands to his ears as dust and glades of grass whipped up. The blue sky split, and a black circle expanded over the farm bordered by an intricate, purple vignette.

Lance shielded his eyes, blinking to clear the dust. Between his fingers, an iron-shaped bow emerged from the wormhole. His stomach tensed; a Galra battlecruiser.

Had they made a miscalculated jump? Those were rare, but not unheard of. Veronica gave a panicked shout, and Lance noticed the familiar purple lights dotted forebodingly across the ship, and the old Galra Empire symbol plastered in black at the front. 

Another purple light fizzed upon the wormhole, and a second cruiser appeared. Then a third, and a fourth. Lance’s gaze swept across the ships as they hovered, all sporting the same symbol. Memories reignited of dashing through purple-lit corridors in search of prisoners and escapes from firing sentries. He trembled and stepped back. Keith had mentioned a growing sect of the old Galra Empire who’d disagreed with joining the Coalition, but he’d insisted these renegades were just a small band of nut-jobs and nostalgic fundamentalists with delusions of grandeur.

A ball of purple light appeared atop the first battlecruiser, and Veronica seized Lance’s hand. He followed her in a run as a phasing blast flashed across the fields. Purple light reflected off Veronica’s car—then changed to orange as the sky darkened. The earth shook, and Lance stumbled, the car bonnet breaking his fall.

“Get in!” Veronica shouted, slamming the driver’s door shut. Lance’s eyes stung as a heat haze distorted his view of the fields. The laser must have hit close; flames consumed nearby grass and Juniberries. He brushed his horror aside as he scrambled into the passenger seat. Veronica floored the accelerator before Lance could buckle up.

“Wait! The farmhands!”

“There isn’t time to wait!” Veronica shouted, the car lurching as the wheel hit a dip in the track. “I’m sorry,” she added, her teeth gritted.

The heat faded as they raced towards the farm. Less than two hundred yards away, another phasing blast rang as all the ships fired on the countryside. Among them, Lance made out a quintet of black dots—winged black dots growing bigger by the second.

“Bombers!” he shouted, their engines becoming audible.

Veronica looked up, then pushed her foot down as far as she could.

Lance didn’t register the impact until he’d slammed into the door. The car buffeted through the air—Lance’s seatbelt locked as they hit the ground. Veronica grappled with the wheel and slammed on the brakes until they stopped with a violent jolt.

“Sorry!” she shouted.

Glass shattered around them before she could release the handbrake. The explosion sent a ring through Lance’s ears as metal crumpled and twisted around them. They’d left the ground again. Lance caught a glimpse of dirt through the cracked windscreen and closed his eyes as they landed, suspending him upside down.

The bombers’ engines had barely faded behind the sharp crackling when gravity took hold of Lance. He winced as he landed on his back and coughed as dust blew into his mouth. Someone seized his shoulders and dragged him across the upturned ceiling, shards of glass cutting into his back. Lance cried out as Veronica hauled him to his feet, dazzled by the daylight. Another explosion knocked him into a run. The heat subsided as he charged forward, his vision still distorted. He didn’t care where he was running so long as it was away from those bombers.

His rapid blinks returned his vision as he made out Veronica charging towards the garage. They ducked behind a tractor allowing Lance to finally catch his breath. He peered out into the farmyard; flames engulfed the wrecked car, and a wall of black smoke rolled across the sky, tinted orange as it approached. The five bombers flew back towards the battlecruisers.

“What gives?” Lance shouted. “Why are they after us?”

“Not _just_ us,” said Veronica, urgency in her voice.

A projection hovered above her phone—a map of North America, dotted with at least six red blips. Veronica’s eyes widened as she zoomed the map out to reveal the rest of the world. Seven more blips appeared across Europe, Asia, and Africa.

Lance’s stomach tensed as video feeds opened around the map. Multiple battlecruisers, identical to those outside, hovered over cities and military bases, their purple lasers laying waste to anything in range. This wasn’t a small scale attack, it was a full-on invasion.

More engines whooshed overhead and more ground-shaking explosions followed. Lance braced while the tremor subsided, then peered out. He recoiled before seeing anything more than a flash of flame.

“Move!” Veronica yelled, grabbing Lance’s arm. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened when a rush of hot air engulfed him with a loud pop. The force threw Lance to the ground and a shower of molten rubber rained down as Veronica’s grip gave. Lance shouted, unable to hear himself as he breathed in smoke, which stung the back of his throat. He felt the heat from the fiery wreck of the tractor.

Veronica’s silhouette lay among burning shards of metal and plastic. Getting to his feet while keeping low, Lance hurried to his sister’s side. Veronica’s face contorted as she clutched her right leg; the fabric ripped and singed, exposing her scorched and lacerated skin.

“V!” Lance shouted, “you all right?”

“Do I look it?” she gasped.

Lance’s eyes darted between Veronica’s injured leg and her face as she tried to regain some composure. Then the sound of another engine, closer than the bombers, reached them. The blood drained from his face as a purple-lit shuttle descended through the advancing smoke. “We got incoming!”

Veronica tried to stand, only to cry out as her leg buckled and she fell.

Lance rushed to her side and scooped his arm beneath her shoulder. He hauled her up as she pointed to the barn.

“The basement,” she said through gritted teeth. “We can hide in there.”

Lance took the first step, then realised how slow his progress would be when he took the second. The landing shuttle’s lights flickered beyond as he took a third step. The whoosh of another engine stopped him and his eyes darted across a darkened sky. With nowhere to hide, they were sitting ducks to the incoming hostiles.

“Hey!” shouted a familiar woman’s voice. “Get on, losers!”

The engines faded as Rachel’s hover-bike touched down in front of them. Her arms extended, Lance handed Veronica over, and he almost laughed in relief as he pulled himself aboard.

Hot wind whipped through Lance’s hair as they sped towards the barn. 

His rush of elation ended with the phasing of lasers. 

Lance ducked, flew head-over-heels, and slammed into the ground, the dirt scraping against his exposed arm. The hover-bike flipped through the air, smoke billowing from its left engine. Veronica fell limp and Rachel threw herself aside seconds before the bike landed on its back. 

Lance scrambled to his feet as the wreck burst into flames.

“Dang it!” shouted Rachel, “there goes our ride outta here!” 

Lasers hit the wreckage and Lance dived back down as Rachel seized Veronica and dragged her towards the barn. Through the smoke and haze, Lance saw the outlines of five armoured figures advancing from the shuttle, rifles raised.

Rachel slammed her hand against the double doors’ entry controls. They opened an inch, then ground to a halt with a scraping clunk. Lance and Rachel shoved their hands between the gap and pulled.

“C’mon,” said Marco as he emerged from within, widening the gap.

Lance and Rachel lifted Veronica and pushed her inside. Sweat ran down Lance’s forehead, turning cold as he stepped sideways into the barn. Marco and Rachel heaved the doors shut as lasers rang outside. Lance slumped against the metal wall, the strain easing from his shoulders as he lowered Veronica down to the floor. Marco slouched against the wall. Kaltenecker looked frantically around as Rachel peeled back Veronica’s singed pant leg.

Lance had barely drawn breath when he held it: those soldiers had seen where they’d gone. They had two minutes at most before being rediscovered. And then what? Would they be captured? Beaten? Executed?

“We gotta move!” he said, back on his feet. “C’mon!” Beckoning the others, he ran for the barn’s far end.

“Wha?” Marco said with a raised eyebrow.

“Quick!” Lance ordered. “Unless ya wanna eat Galra gruel for breakfast lunch AND dinner!” He seized the rear door’s manual release and dragged it open. A burning stench filled his nostrils and he reigned in his momentum. Only smoke lingered in the small stretch of yard between the barn and the cowshed and Lance decided it was their best chance.

“Hold it!” shouted a gruff voice. Lance turned—and stared down the barrel of a Galran rifle. The armoured figure seized his arm and hauled him up, a sharp-toothed smirk on the exposed lower half of their face. Lance pulled back and yelled as his captor dragged him away. Another armoured soldier ran past him and through the open door. Lasers fired, and someone yelped.

A terrified rage boiled within Lance. He yanked his arm from his captor’s grasp and ran back for the barn. Who had screamed? And what could he do when he got there? He looked back, moving sideways as the soldier raised their rifle.

A blast rang out, blue sparks erupting from the soldier’s chest as they fell.

Lance reached the door. Veronica leaned on Rachel, her pistol drawn and pointed toward the door. She gave Lance a brief smirk. Marco grabbed the rifle of the second soldier, now out of commission on the floor.

Despite Rachel’s help, Veronica winced, trying to keep her injured leg up as the quartet staggered outside. Then Lance noticed Kaltenecker in the centre of the barn, her head swaying in distress. His eyes darted between his siblings and Kaltenecker; the doors they’d come through edging open inch-by-inch. Though certain the soldiers wouldn’t have much use for a cow, that apathy could be an excuse to shoot her.

A zap close to his ear made Lance jump before he could think further. Kaltenecker let out the loudest ‘Moo’ as the aqua-blue shot landed close to her rear hoof. Wailing, she charged straight for the doors—tearing both off and buckling the frame. A panicked cry and a laser blast later, and she was gone.

Galloping hooves grew louder behind the crackling and Lance caught a glimpse of Kaltenecker’s hide as she charged past the cowshed, out of the farm and down the lane. Veronica clutched a pistol. “It was that or let her die!” she shouted. 

Lance’s anger subsided as he gazed back at the destroyed barn doors; three soldiers lay motionless underneath the wreckage. With some time bought, they edged towards the cowshed.

Lance did a quick headcount and nausea sunk through him as he asked, “where are the kids?”

Everyone froze. Veronica’s eyes darted between Rachel and Marco.

“I…” Marco stammered, “I sent them to fetch some more equipment. It…it was in the garage!”

“We were just there,” said Veronica, shaking her head.

Lance mentally checked off the farm buildings. That left the sleeping quarters where they stayed during the harvest and when work was most demanding. Without explaining, or even thinking it through, Lance ran towards them.

“Lance, wait!” yelled Veronica as a plume of black smoke blew past.

Stopping and turning to retort, he didn’t expect to see Veronica hold out her pistol. 

“There’ll be more,” she said.

Lance shook his head. “Dad’s got me covered! You might need that!” Without explaining or waiting for another objection, he charged across the barnyard.

The smoke stuck at the back of Lance’s throat, and he coughed and spluttered as he reached the door. Surprised the entry controls were still lit up, he slammed his hand against it and slid into the hallway before the doors finished opening.

“Sylvio?” he yelled. “Nadia?”

No reply.

Drawing in a breath of smoke-free, though stale, air, Lance opened the door to his own room. His personal effects and the furniture were untouched with no sign of the kids. He checked Veronica’s room, then Rachel’s and Marco’s. No Sylvio or Nadia. Panic rose in his chest as he returned to the hallway. Preparing himself for the worst, he hauled open the door to his parents’ room. He made straight for the chest below the window and punched in the code; the same three digits dad used for everything, then threw the lid open. Seizing boxes, he chucked them aside with little regard for what was inside, until he saw the long, dust-covered crate that made him punch the air.

He ripped the lid off and grabbed the long, grey rifle within. An heirloom from his grandfather’s national service, his dad ‘hid’ it after Sylvio managed to dislodge it from the wall a few too many times—the last of which led to them replacing dad’s windscreen. Two dusty charge packs sat in the bottom of the box. Lance forced them into his pocket, unsure what power they’d have, if any, but he hadn’t time to be a choosy beggar. 

Another rush of engines and glass showered Lance as the window shattered. He hunched over the rifle as explosions shook the room. The thrusters faded, replaced with a new sound. Usually a cause for concern, it made Lance gasp in hope: two children crying close by. Back in the hallway, a wave of heat hit Lance. Flames licking at the doorway had ignited the carpet, and he coughed as smoke rolled along the ceiling. Wasting no more time, he entered the emergency code to the final door. 

Nothing happened. He smashed a glass panel and pulled the lever within, opening the door a couple of inches. Pressing his fingers through the gap, he heard a terrified squeal.

“Sylvio? Nadia?” he called, “it’s okay! It’s me!”

The screams stopped, followed by a rush of footsteps. The door slid open and a clattering of heavy items hit the floor. Lance pushed aside the remains of a pile of stuff in front of the door and found Sylvio and Nadia knelt on the bed. With tears in their eyes they yelled for Lance. He crouched and took them both in his arms. They stayed together for a few seconds, relief washing over Lance until he released them.

“We knew you’d come, Uncle Lance,” Sylvio cried.

The corners of Lance’s mouth turned up and he almost laughed as if embarrassed. He shook it off as smoke stung in his nostrils and heat pricked against his back. He swept the door shut on the spreading fire in the corridor.

With the hallway out, he charged for the shattered window. He ran the butt of his rifle along the frame to clear the remaining glass, then threw a bedsheet over the sill.

Sylvio and Nadia stepped back as Lance nodded towards their exit. 

“Hey,” he said as the kids hesitated. Emboldened by Sylvio’s vote of confidence, he raised the rifle, and added, “they didn’t call me ‘sharpshooter’ for nothin’!”

Armed soldiers were the least of their problems as they rounded the corner into the barnyard. Embers rained down, and hot air plastered across Lance’s body and in his throat. It was hard to breathe, never mind run for safety. Tears cleared stinging smoke from his eyes, and he observed their route back to the cowshed—entirely ablaze.

The bombers had dropped something more than incendiaries; a dark, tar-like substance spread, burning across the ground. Smoke rose from the barn’s roof, and though their destination was mostly undamaged, fire covered everything but a silo beside the cowshed.

Sylvio and Nadia retched and coughed in fits, wheezing for breath in between. Swinging the rifle over his shoulder, Lance grabbed the sheet from the windowsill. He shook it twice and, deciding the kids having a few cuts was better than them suffocating, draped them in it. Suffocation would still be a problem if they didn’t get out of there in the next few seconds. 

The heat stung Lance’s eyes as he turned back to the cowshed where he spotted a figure leap over a railing. He leaned out, his eyes watering as he forced them into focus. Rachel stood up and, spotting Lance, she gestured towards him wide-eyed. Even without specifics, her urgency was enough and he pulled the kids back.

A deep bang shook the walls and Lance staggered, pulling Sylvio and Nadia closer as metal splinters showered them. Then a rushing sound, followed by a long hiss. Lance opened his eyes as white smoke blew past them. No—steam. Sticking his head around the corner, a plume of it enveloped him. 

It soon cleared enough for Lance to make out Rachel and Marco shouting and beckoning from beside the cowshed. Lance seized the kids and ran across the yard, barely noticing the gaping hole in the silo as they reached the railings. Sylvio and Nadia squeezed through the gaps and into Rachel and Marco’s arms. 

Lance volleyed over the fence and ran straight for Veronica, slumped against one of the metal support pillars. He gestured at the destroyed silo, coughing before he could get the words out.

“One of their bombs,” she gasped, pointing to a pair of grey cone-shaped devices lying amongst the straw. “Didn’t detonate. So we improvised.”

“What?” Lance wheezed, his eyes sore as he gaped.

“Don’t judge me,” Veronica said with a smirk. “ _You’re_ the kid who ran away to space in a robot lion.”

Marco yelled, stopping Lance’s comeback. He grabbed Nadia and ran further inside, pointing his free hand to the sky.

A shadow fell over the yard, plunging the farm into an artificial night. 

“Ah, quiznak,” said Lance as he moved for a better view—the colossal bow of a battlecruiser loomed overhead. “Where’s our ticket outta here?” he yelled at Veronica.

“I dunno!” she replied, jabbing at her phone. “Iverson, this is Veronica, we need help!” A static burst was her only reply. “They musta knocked out a comms relay.”

An ember brushed Lance’s cheek and his eyes flicked to the far side of the cowshed, noticing the piles of hay bales. He was surprised they hadn’t caught already, but once they did, the shed would be no safer than anywhere else.

A squeal and the pounding of a child’s feet grabbed Lance’s attention. Sylvio stopped in front of him, breathlessly pointing into the yard. Lance raised his grandfather’s rifle, ignoring everyone’s looks of surprise as he crouched and aimed at the hilltop.

Through the fire, between the trees overlooking the farm, a line of tall silhouettes advanced, all brandishing assault weapons.

Without hesitating, Lance pulled the trigger—and yelped from the recoil. He almost overbalanced as the shot missed the soldier’s head, but clipped their shoulder, and they staggered as their weapon fell to the ground. Either it was the age of the model or, as he feared, his aim wasn’t what it was.

Lasers phased and everyone scattered. Lance shielded his face and dived behind one of the cowshed’s support pillars. Refocusing his aim, he watched the soldiers charge for the burning sleeping quarters, their heads low. A rain of purple lasers fired from behind. Craning over, Lance grinned as Rachel and Marco fired their ‘acquired’ rifles.

“How d’ya like a taste of that?” Rachel yelled.

Without a heads-up display or ammo reading, Lance took aim at a soldier on the hill clutching a long-barrelled weapon. His shot missed the head, but the soldier’s hand snapped to their chest as they fell.

“Gimme cover,” Lance ordered his siblings as he ran and crouched behind a small pillar between the railings. Rachel and Marco fired indiscriminately. The soldiers recoiled into cover, some raising small purple shields. Lance singled out an unshielded soldier, stood where he and the kids had minutes before, and pulled the trigger. A more violent recoil sent his shot into the soldier’s leg and they rolled over with a scream.

Lance grinned, his heart racing.

A hot gust blew through his hair followed by the roar of engines—larger than the bombers’. A laser blast like a cannon rang above him and the thunder of explosions burst high above. Surprised he could still hear anything through the ringing in his ears, Lance looked up. 

The battlecruiser still loomed, but a flame-laced plume of black smoke rose from the bow. Lance was so focused on the suddenly besieged battlecruiser, he almost missed the attacker casting a new shadow over the barnyard. 

The ship was white like the Atlas, with a long tall hull and a trio of engines blazing aqua-blue. A laser barrage fired, its impact sending the battlecruiser’s purple lights into a flicker, and the engines’ roar weakened.

“The Osiris!” Veronica shouted, her bloodshot eyes watering.

Lance punched the air. The battlecruiser slowed in its turn and the bow tilted towards the ground.

Veronica gazed ecstatic at her phone, and the newly-formed projection of Iverson leaning over a control panel.

 _“Yeah!”_ Iverson roared. _“Let ‘em have it!”_

Explosions rang from the Osiris’ continued barrage. The battlecruiser sank through the air in a flash of orange, disintegrating into a rain of burning, twisted metal.

 _“Strike five!”_ Iverson yelled, jabbing at Veronica. _“That’ll teach those wannabes to keep their purple, pointy mitts off my planet!”_

“Thank you, Commander,” Veronica gasped.

 _“Thank me when the cavalry arrives!”_ Iverson shouted, his face stern again. He jabbed his fingers across his dashboard. The Osiris turned on its axis, and the wind dropped. 

More lasers—hostile. Lance and his siblings retreated into cover as the soldiers on the hill retaliated.

The ground trembled as the last of the destroyed battlecruiser landed in the distance. Lance lined up another shot, but a blast from above knocked his focus before he could take it. A rain of embers fell as Lance saw the remnants of an explosion off the Osiris’ starboard side. 

He’d almost forgotten the other three ships the wormhole had produced, now with glints of purple dotted atop their hulls and a phasing which grew louder by the second. Lance shielded his eyes as the Osiris’ particle barrier deflected the freshly-fired blasts. 

A purple laser narrowly missed his ear and he leaned back behind the pillar. Peeping out, he saw all the soldiers he’d downed had been replaced, joined by at least another five.

The rifle almost slipped from Lance’s sweat-soaked hands as he fired. It missed his target and he flung back into cover as the soldiers returned fire.

 _“What’s it like down there?”_ Iverson asked, his projection reappearing.

“Infantry advancing from the South,” said Veronica. 

“And there’s a lot of red stuff!” Marco yelled. “We’re gonna need the whole fire department!”

“How’d they get through our defences?” Veronica asked, ducking as a laser from a short, trigger-happy soldier shot overhead.

 _“Darn fools wormholed in beneath them,”_ said Iverson. _“They’re lucky they didn’t crash straight into the dirt!”_

“How’d they get into the Teludav network?” Veronica shouted, drawing her pistol and returning fire.

 _“They’re here now!”_ Iverson yelled. _“HOW they got here can wait! Can you all hold your own?”_

Veronica nodded. “For now.”

Lance wanted to answer differently as he coughed but, spurred on by her confidence, he shot and hit the short soldier. 

_“Fantastic!”_ said Iverson. _“Then let me take that heat off ya!”_

The Osiris boosted over the farm towards the battlecruisers. The lasers paused and Lance shot two more soldiers, inhaling hot breaths of charred air as he looked skyward to see the Osiris’ particle barrier reform. Purple glints appeared atop the two closest ships with an intensifying hum. He’d never been on the Osiris himself, but he knew from Veronica that it wasn’t much more than a fancy frigate, and while it had defence systems, it wasn’t built for combat.

Lance closed his eyes a fraction of a second before the charging lasers fired. The emanating light glowed through his eyelids as an explosion almost loud enough to shatter his eardrums swept through the air.

Opening his stinging eyes, a flare burned into Lance’s vision, his ears ringing as if they’d popped. Another purple glint shone from the third cruiser. The particle barrier rippled across the Osiris—leaving a gap at the front. The light on the third cruiser burst forward. Muted, the laser shot straight through the hole. 

The Osiris became a silhouette against the purple flash, and Lance opened his mouth in a silent scream. The purple glow burst into an orange fireball on the port side. 

The particle barrier flickered and died and the bombers seized their chance, dropping their glowing payloads atop the Osiris in a dazzle of orange and black. The ship buckled, the engines strained, and the teal-coloured lights darkened. 

The first two cruisers recharged their lasers but a succession of shots to Lance’s side drew his attention back to the advancing infantry. Purple and blue beams shot over his head as Marco and Rachel retaliated. Craning over, Lance watched Veronica fire without prejudice from behind the pillar, her eyes wide. The attackers retreated into cover, allowing Lance time to select and eliminate a tall soldier. His sights caught another adorned with a black helmet.

Lance aimed at his target’s chest and pulled the trigger. No recoil and only a hiss from the barrel. His insides sank as he reached into his pocket. Shadows fell across the barnyard and an orange glow shone from what might have been a sunset. Veronica shrieked, and Lance glanced up. His heart stopped. 

All three cruisers discharged their weapons into the ball of fire surrounding the Osiris. Shards of debris rained down over the still burning fields. Lance’s hands shook as he slotted the first of the spare dusty charge packs into his weapon.

Few of the soldiers stayed in cover—some cheered as they watched the Osiris burn. Lance singled out a broad-shouldered soldier; the one gloating most. He fired with force and felt a small sense of comeuppance from the soldier’s shock as they dropped.

The last splutters of a dying engine coughed as the Osiris rolled onto its side, its lights flickering as flames enveloped the ship. 

Then in a sudden burst of life, the teal lights returned, and the ship accelerated. It strained to maintain its course as smoke obscured its flickering starboard engine.

“Commander?” Veronica pleaded, “Commander Iverson, do you copy?”

No answer.

“Commander! What are you doing?”

With a flash from its two remaining engines, the Osiris boosted for the right-most battlecruiser. The cannon atop the ship charged too slow. Instead, it fired a wave of purple lasers from every turret and opening. 

It wasn’t enough. The Osiris slammed head-on into the enemy ship’s iron-shaped bow. It split and the Osiris disappeared in a fireball. 

Lance froze. The battlecruiser’s bow crumpled and fell away, fire and smoke bursting from a hole in the ship’s main hull. The purple lights died and the cruiser tilted forward, dropping in slow-motion out of the sky. 

Veronica stared, her mouth agape below her mortified eyes. The mess of burning wreckage crashed down in a distant field, sending a quake through the ground. Lance winced at the shockwave and an ear-splitting bang rushed past him.

A grim thought dawned as his ears rang again: aside from Veronica, was the Osiris fully crewed?

Sylvio and Nadia screamed loud enough for Lance to hear through the ringing. Opening his eyes, he saw their black silhouettes against another orange wall—where the hay bales lay.

Lance flattened himself to the ground. While it was easier to breathe, the air was still hot and the smoke still stung in his nose and throat. He crouched as high as he dared, and refocused on the soldiers. Transfixed by the mushroom cloud over the crash site, Lance caught them off guard, downing one and catching a second in the shoulder. 

The sweat stinging in his eyes and the smoke gripping his throat worsened his aim. Lance inhaled, getting an acrid mouthful of smoke and embers. The hair on his arms singed and smoke rose from his boots. His head felt suddenly light as he lurched forward. His outstretched hands broke his fall as he spluttered and coughed. Rachel made similar sounds from against her covering pillar and her rifle slipped from her grip. 

The shielded soldiers advanced into the farmyard. Marco fired another spray of lasers. The soldiers deflected all his shots and he slouched, his hair smouldering.

Any breath Lance drew he coughed straight back up. He clenched his fists and screwed his eyes closed; anything to stop the lightheadedness dragging him unconscious. Opening his eyes again was a strain; his vision a stinging blur of tears and smoke as he noted the hole in the water silo—and their last hope of survival occurred to him. 

He tried to shout, but only managed a wheeze as the smoke gripped his vocal cords. “V!”

His strangulated retch caught Veronica’s attention as she slumped beside her pillar, her hand over her mouth.

“Run!” Lance coughed, gesturing at his siblings.

“But there’s—” Rachel wheezed.

Lance ignored her. Covering his mouth and nose, he jabbed his free hand at the entrance they’d come through, clear of flames, for now, thanks to the gust from the Osiris’ engines.

“Through the—?” Marco coughed, his soot-stained face contorted as he indicated the flames creeping towards their exit.

Lance pointed at the sheet he’d covered Sylvio and Nadia with, then gestured in an arching shape over at the kids.

Marco still didn’t look convinced, his narrowed eyes watering, washing a trail of soot off his cheeks.

Lance gave what he hoped was a firm stare. He could only hold it a second as the sweltering air forced his eyes shut.

Both Marco and Rachel looked at Veronica. She nodded while suppressing a series of coughs.

Under a new round of laser fire, Rachel and Marco grabbed the sheet, itself emitting wisps of smoke as they threw it over Sylvio and Nadia. The crying kids hadn’t the strength to resist as Marco and Rachel almost tackled them to the ground. With black smoke pluming over them, they crawled for the exit.

“Stick to—” Lance coughed, “the wall!” He got to his feet, staying as low as he could while firing indiscriminately at the advancing soldiers until the rifle clicked dead. He threw it aside and, in a stoop, dashed for Veronica. 

She shot in an unfocused frenzy that Lance barely avoided as he slipped his arm underneath hers. 

Pushing Veronica up, smoke clung to the back of Lance’s throat. Could he carry her all that way? He gave a weak point at what he hoped, ironically, would finish off their attackers. Veronica nodded, her eyes streaming and her skin smoke-stained.

Lance turned for their exit, barely visible through the orange haze. He took one last gulp of the acrid air, pulled the neckline of his sweat-soaked shirt over his mouth, and ran. 

Newfound adrenaline surged through him, dispelling his lightheadedness and almost numbing the scalding across his skin. Surprised by his own speed, he almost didn’t taste the smoke as wave after wave of it blew into his face. Lasers phased in rapid succession close to his ears, louder even than the fire crackling only feet away. The exit was right in front of them, but where would they go once they were out? The fields around the farm still blazed and more soldiers were bound to be on their way. They could hide in the barn’s basement as Veronica originally planned, but that would only borrow them time. He’d have to figure that out once they were out of immediate danger. 

Lance made out Rachel and Marco coughing on their knees in the dirt; Sylvio and Nadia both slumped against the barn. 

“Hands up!” shouted a gruff voice. 

Lance’s stomach dropped as two Galra soldiers ran into his sight, rifles raised at his family. He staggered forward fast as he could and an intense wave of heat caught his right cheek. He flinched from the flames, the stench of burning hair and fabric filled his nostrils. And his feet hit something hard on the ground. Veronica cried out as she and Lance smashed into the dirt at full speed. Pain throbbed across his entire body and heat burned on his right arm.

More laser blasts rang out and Veronica yelled for Lance. Something soft pressed tightly against his right side. He winced, feeling hands seize his shoulders and roll him onto his side. Embers and dust drifted across the ground as he opened his eyes. Smoke filled the cowshed top to bottom. The soldiers’ flashlights flickered below their visors’ purple glints and flames illuminated their dark silhouettes. One turned towards the fire. They went rigid, shouted, and wheeled round to their comrades. 

Veronica threw herself on top of Lance before he could crawl away.

A flash, a whoosh, and a thunderous bang—the loudest yet.

Metal and masonry shot over them, the sound muted from Lance’s ringing eardrums. His vision ebbed. A momentary sense of bliss washed over him before his strength drained away as the rest of the world went black.

He flinched, a stinging sensation beneath his ribs. Something plastic rested on his face covering his nose and mouth. He felt hands gripping his limbs—and movement. Lance’s instincts told him to resist, but he hadn’t the strength. 

He inhaled. Cool air rushed through his throat. He breathed deep, savouring the feeling as his chest rose and fell. The air was almost sweet and every breath freshened the stale, noxious taste. The stinging to his right eased, soothing as a cold sensation spread upwards.

Someone called Lance’s name as he opened his eyes. They stung again as he caught a glimpse of daylight and the distorted blur of someone in black stooped over him. Lance’s eyes watered and he screwed them shut, then blinked rapidly. The person over Lance adjusted the plastic around his mouth and more details became visible. They wore armour, broad with sloped shoulders. A scar lay across their right cheek, itself partially obscured by a mess of black hair.

Lance pulled himself up in a mix of excitement and relief, only to receive a painful reminder of how messed up his arms were.

“Woah, easy Lance.” 

Keith gently took hold and eased him back down.

Lance realised he was lying on something softer than dirt, its texture akin to leather. Glancing down, he saw the bars of a gurney, an opened pack of medical gel and a clear tube leading to a mask over his face. 

He caught sight of where he’d felt the cold sensation. Parts of his shirt and pants had burned away and angry blotches of red skin stared back from beneath a layer of sweat and soot. Averting his eyes to delay the pain he was sure would follow, Lance saw Rachel and Marco. Similarly covered in soot, they slouched against the barn with their arms around Sylvio and Nadia, shaking and tearful as paramedics treated them. A pair of Garrison soldiers stood over the two dead Galra.

Someone spluttered and retched. Veronica slumped against the cowshed’s shattered wall, clutching at her chest with one hand and her mask with the other. Acxa knelt beside her adjusting the mask.

Sitting up, Lance caught a clear view of the farm—or what was left of it.

A smouldering shell stood where the sleeping quarters had been, the surrounding trees reduced to charred trunks. The barn was scorched but still standing. The cowshed was another story; a tangled mess of twisted metal lay in its place. Garrison and Galra infantry surrounded the buildings and steam rose from the wreckage as firefighters hosed them down.

A clatter rang from the cowshed’s ruins and a pair of figures in black armour lifted a sheet of what was once the roof. Lance flinched then recognised them as Zethrid and Ezor, the latter pulling a Galra soldier’s limp body from beneath. Several fire trucks and Garrison security vehicles lined the lane towards the interstate. Lance caught sight of Kaltenecker, her head stooped towards the shrivelled grass.

His chest tightened as he noticed the two Galra battlecruisers hovering above. He gasped into another coughing fit, then saw their lights shining Coalition teal.

“Breathe, Lance,” said Keith, sliding an arm across Lance’s upper back. 

“Keith,” Lance croaked, his chest loosening the more oxygen he breathed. “Whatcha—?”

“We were resupplying on Daibazaal,” Keith answered, “came as soon as we heard.” His face darkened as he stared towards the fields.

Lance’s gaze followed. Where rolling green hills dotted with pink once lay, a scorched expanse stretched to the horizon. Pillars of smoke rose into the sky above flaming glints; the sky itself burned as if in a furious sunset. The downed battlecruisers’ remains lay in colossal craters and fires raged within the wreckage, casting jagged silhouettes. Several Blade of Marmora craft circled above; one dropped a wall of water into the farthest wreck, a cloud of steam rising in its wake.

“Cowards,” Keith hissed. “Vozrosh wasn’t even with them.”

“Voz-what?” Lance said, his chest clenching as he coughed again.

“The Fragment’s leader,” Keith responded, scowling as he scanned the flaming landscape. “Your visitors,” he said, answering Lance’s unasked question that must have shown on his face. 

Keith’s eyes darted to his wrist device as Kolivan appeared steel-faced in a projection. 

_“Keith, I said wait for the all-clear,”_ he said without the anger of a reprimand.

“I couldn’t leave them,” said Keith, shaking his head. “The area’s secure and we’re cleaning up. What about the rest?”

 _“Ten ships destroyed,”_ said Kolivan, _“including five stolen from the breakers. The stragglers are retreating.”_

Keith nodded as Kolivan signed out.

“So, you won?” asked Lance.

Keith pursed his lips and shook his head. “This was no invasion; they didn’t send enough ships. They don’t HAVE enough ships.”

“You saying they just wanted to wreck stuff?” Lance said subdued.

A sombre voice called Keith’s name before he could answer and Acxa stepped forward, a projection appearing above her wrist. “Our ships have scanned the Osiris’ crash site.” Her solemn eyes and frown said everything else.

“There were some farmhands out there,” Lance piped up, guilty that he’d not thought of them sooner. “Have you…”

Acxa shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She wiped a layer of black sweat off her blue forehead, then stepped away.

Lance registered his gurney being wheeled towards an ambulance, but how long it took and who he passed on the way was lost on him. The injustice and senselessness of what had happened sent raw energy through him that he’d not felt for years. It crept over every inch of his body, clenching his hands into fists.

Keith’s shadow leaned in, and Lance shook his head. Looking up, his gaze fell on the Osiris’ wreckage and his thoughts turned to Iverson.

How many others could have needed that support? A sombre sense of humbled gratitude sank through Lance’s chest.

Despite the hell Iverson had put Lance and his friends through in their younger years, he’d disregarded the thousands of others who could have used his help for six individuals, only two of which he’d personally known. 

No repayment would ever be enough—but Lance knew what he had to do once he’d completed his short stay in hospital. It would go at least some way towards honouring him, and those bound by duty to do and die. 

A cold gust blew against Lance’s cheek and something fluttered into his lap. Unclenching his fists, he brushed his index fingertip against it. The charred Juniberry petals cracked then crumbled into tiny ashes.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Both this and 'Scientists Under Stress' tie into a longer fic I've been writing for a while. I'm currently in the midst of redrafting it. Not sure when it'll be finished but watch this space.


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